American
agriculture has become an industrial food system of sorts, dependent
on long-distance shipping, chemicals, marketing, and big machinery,
says Kocis. Nearly every state in the U.S., for instance, imports
85 to 90 percent of its food, with most produce traveling an average
of 1,300 miles from the farm to the market shelf, according to the
University of Massachusetts Cooperative Extension. This ability to
have just about any fruit or vegetable any time of the year has led
to a dramatic shift in eating habits: Rather than eating whats ripe
locally, consumers have come to expect tomatoes, grapes, and cantaloupe
every month of the year. The result is a lot of tasteless, cardboard
produce, says Kocis. But beyond that, its an economic issue. If
more states could produce more of their own food, they would strengthen
their economies.

CSAs, Kocis and others say, are a solution. While 20,000 small farms
go bankrupt in the United States each year, CSA farms have increased
from fewer than 60 in 1990 to more than 1,500 today. Even in urban
America, the movement is gaining momentum, with 6,000 members in the
five boroughs that make up New York City. CSAs are growing because,
for one, they make it possible for farmers to make a living, Kocis
says. And what about members? For a $300 to $600 investment, depending
on the farm and amount of food a family needs, subscribers get a load
of fresh, chemical-free vegetablesand sometimes fruiteach week.
When I take the kids to school in the morning and we drive by the
farm, we check out whats going on and what crops are coming in,
says Nancy Stahl, a teachers aide and member since Charlestown Cooperative
Farm opened. I think its wonderful for the kids to grow up seeing
a farm and seeing where their food is coming from. I dont plan my
meals ahead of timewe just eat what comes in. Its much more interesting
than going to the store and always picking up waxy red peppers and
bananas.

Charlestown Cooperative Farm is divided by a long, unpaved driveway
that splits two fields with earth the color of coffee beans. Tidy
rows are planted in flowering strawberry plants, Chinese cabbages,
rainbow chard, peas trailing up twine trellises, and dozens of other
usual and unusual vegetables, herbs, and flowers. On pick-up daysTuesdays
and Thursdaysa steady stream of members come and go. There are mothers
with young children who play in the farm sandbox, swing on the swings
that hang from the aged hickory trees, and hunt for ripe strawberries
and cherry tomatoes. Elderly couples come, scanning the fields as
if theyre seeing an old friend. Professionals arrive late in the
day, wobbling up the gravel driveway in dress-clothes and shiny shoes
and walking gingerly through the sometimes-muddy U-Pick gardens to
gather flowers and herbs. The residents of this wealthy, largely Republican
township have roundly embraced the farm, with membership doubling
each seasonand a waiting list of 75 hopefuls. You can see that people
feel good about being here, about supporting a local farm, Kocis
says. The members enjoy the quiet and the beauty. They can sit at
a picnic table and watch the grass blow. No one is rushing. People
smile and are friendly.

Kocis
and Good have also built a lively place, hosting potluck suppers,
cooking demonstrations, farm tours, a harvest dinner and square dance,
and a food festivalThink Globally, Act Locallythat brought chefs
from several Philadelphia restaurants to prepare vegetable dishes
for members to taste, with recipes to take home. On Saturdays, the
couple heads to a farmers market they helped create in Phoenixville,
Pennsylvania, a nearby former steel town, where they sell vegetables,
herbs, and flowers. The pair works six days a week, assisted only
by two apprentices and members who choose to volunteer. By Sunday,
Kocis admits, she and Good are bone tired. And farming, even without
the middleman, is no way to get rich, Kocis concedes. We do this
because we believe in it. But it is hard, she says. Thats the simple
truth.